


lost and (i'm) found

by mwestbelle



Series: Scent and a Sound 'verse [2]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost and (i'm) found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anoneknewmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoneknewmoose/gifts).



> So, [anoneknewmoose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anoneknewmoose/pseuds/anoneknewmoose) asked for wedding night fic from my A Scent and a Sound (WWBB) 'verse. What I've written her is ridiculous schmoopiness, with some sex for flavor. Whoops!
> 
> (Yes, that is the next lyric of Hungry Like the Wolf. IT'S APPROPRIATE.)
> 
> Happy Birthday, boo ♥
> 
> (Originally posted March 23, 2011)

“Oh,” Frank says. He’s scrolling through the dozens of e-mails Gerard has been sending him about the pro-Osbourne campaign (just one comment about feeling under-informed, and he was flooded), and he looks over at Mikey. “The bill, uh. It covers marriage.”

Mikey is doing some kind of weird yoga stretching thing behind the couch. One of the girls at work turned him onto it, and Mikey says it makes him feel more centered or something. All Frank knows is he’s a hell of a lot bendier, and the sex is fucking awesome. “What?”

“Osbourne.” Frank shifts to look behind him. Mikey has hands and feet on the floor, bent at the hips like the top of a straw in what Frank has always called the “doggy style” pose. He looks over at Frank through his bangs, so Frank knows he’s listening. “It has allowances for…inter-species marriage.”

Mikey breathes in deep through his nose and drops his hips to the floor so his back is curved, holding himself up with palms flat on the ground, then turns to Frank and exhales slowly. “Not a chance.”

Frank’s stomach clenches. “What?”

Mikey breathes in and out again, lying flat on the floor for a moment before he rolls onto his back and sits up to frown slightly at Frank. “If you think that’s going to count as a proposal, you are so fucking wrong.”

Frank flushes a little and folds his arms against his chest. “Good, because it _wasn’t_ one.”

Mikey shakes his head and stands up, rolling his shoulders. He’s giving Frank a little smile, though. The special private one that only Frank gets to see pointed at him. “See if the bill passes. Then figure something out.”

*

“I always liked to think of the Osbourne Bill as a late birthday present to me,” Frank says. He has it all written out on note cards, because he thought he would be fucking shaking, standing up here in front of everybody. But in reality, he feels incredibly calm. He barely has to look down; it all comes out so easily. “Passed November 10th. And on November 12th, I finally worked up the courage. I was still scared as shit, but I just couldn’t wait.”

There’s scattered laughter. Frank looks out at the room, the spread of family and friends all watching him and those goddamn tissue paper poofs that Gerard insisted they hang on either side of the aisle. As tirelessly as he mocked the idea, they do look pretty damn good. He looks at Mikey, standing in front of him, and it’s impossible not to beam like an idiot. “And, uh. Obviously, he said yes. I’m…not great at speaking. Not like this. And I feel so f—damn sappy, but…what better place, right?” He takes a deep breath and presses his thumb against the slightly bent corner of one of his notecards. “Mikes, you’re just…you’re awesome. I’m so glad that, uh, Craigslist brought us together, and I’m never going to let go. I love you, and…I promise that I’ll help you remember to unplug your flat-iron before it melts another toothbrush and that I’ll never make you buy me a flea collar.”

The officiant nods and Frank digs the ring out of his pocket. His hands so fucking sweaty, but he holds it tight and takes Mikey’s hand in his, sliding the ring onto his finger. “With this ring, I seal my promises. In great times and crap times, under sun and moon, I’m yours.”

He’s _not_ tearing up, except how it’s okay, because Mikey totally is too. There’s just a moment before the guy says “You may—“ and then Frank is pulling Mikey in close, kissing him hard. He can hear people laugh and cheer, but all he knows is he can _smell_ him. The moon is down, of course, or none of Frank’s family could be here much less Frank himself, but he can smell Mikey. The cologne Toro gave him at their bachelor-bachelor party, and under that, skin sweet and salty and clean. It would probably cause a ruckus if he licked Mikey’s neck right here, so he resists. But just barely.

*

By the time they get to the hotel room, they’re both exhausted. The Ways and Ieros and assorted friends know how to party, and Frank feels so full of excitement and satisfaction and vegan wedding cake that he might just topple over. Which is basically what he does, flopping onto the bed with just his tie undone and his shoes still on. Mikey takes a little more time, stripping out of his suit and sneakers before crawling under the covers next to Frank.

“Hey, no.” Frank wrinkles his nose and rolls over into Mikey. “It’s our wedding night.”

“Mhmm,” Mikey says, eyes closed.

“We have to fuck. C’mon. Get up.” Frank tries to hump Mikey awake but, god, he’s too tired to move his hips much less get it up. “Just. Five minutes, okay? Five minute intermission, and then we’re gonna fuck.”

“Mhmmm,” Mikey says, nuzzling into Frank and yawning.

Frank wakes up in the morning in an empty rumpled bed, and a fairly smelly rumpled suit. He gets up and struggles his way free, fumbling his buttons with sleep-lazy fingers. The shower is running, but he just throws his suit on the floor and stretches back out in the bed. After a few minutes, the water turns off and Frank watches his _husband_ walk out. Mikey just has a towel slung loosely around his hips, and not even under the moon has he ever looked so delicious to Frank.

“C’mere.”

“What, am I your slave now?” Mikey’s grinning though, and he nonchalantly removes the towel, bringing it up to dry his hair. He’s already half hard, showing off, and when he tosses the towel aside, Frank can see the tattoo on the inside of his forearm in sharp relief against the rest of his skin.

“C’mere, asshole.” Frank half sits up and holds his hands out, pulling Mikey closer as soon as he relents and comes to bed. He takes Mikey’s arm and runs his fingers over the tattoo—silver rings entwined. Mikey reaches over to flip Frank’s arm over, revealing the same design, and presses them together.

“Best wedding present ever, right?”

Frank snorts, but it does give him an incredible thrill to see them marked in the same way. “You’re just saying that because it’s from your brother.”

Mikey grins and presses his thumb against the center of one of Frank’s rings. “No, I’m just saying that because you’re my mate.” That makes Frank twitch a little, a low shiver that runs all the way down to the base of his spine. Mikey is watching him, grin getting a little smaller, softer. Closer to their private smile. “That’s…that’s right, isn’t it? That’s. We are?”

Frank never thought he would have this, and he sure as hell never thought he would have it with a human. But he just nods and ducks in close, burying his nose in Mikey’s neck to get a good deep breath of his scent, like he wanted to at the ceremony. “Yeah. We are.”

Mikey makes a low sound, and Frank licks up his neck, nipping gently. They’re always careful with teeth, even though Frank is pretty sure he can’t spread anything while he’s in human form. But this is it, and he knows that Mikey loves the tease, the blunt pressure against his neck.

They’re both still tired, lazy and happy, rolling around in bed together, grinding and laughing and trading kisses. Frank loves every fucking second of it, how the whole bed is going to smell like him and Mikey. And he’ll smell like Mikey, and Mikey will smell like him. It’s like _pack_ , but lighter, in a way. Frank always knew his place in his pack, and he knows his place here too. But it’s at Mikey’s side, not underneath him.

“Underneath works,” Mikey says, a little breathless, and digs his teeth into Frank’s shoulder. “Or on top. I’m cool with either.”

If that’s an invitation, Frank would be an idiot to decline it. He rolls over on top of Mikey, pressing him down into the bed with a groan. Mikey is so fucking hot and bendy, arching and writhing underneath him, hooking a leg around Frank’s hips to keep him in close. He has to _claim_ , he knows that inside his skin, in his very heartbeat. This is his mate, but the world needs to know. He grinds against Mikey’s belly, whining softly, feeling closer to the wolf than he ever has outside of the moon.

“Do it,” Mikey says, and this is one of the million reasons Frank loves this man. “Whatever it is, just fucking do it.”

Frank tenses, fighting his human need to last, to make it good, but he can’t hold this back. And they’ll have plenty of time to get creative. He comes across Mikey’s belly and chest, marking him, claiming him. _Mate._

He flops off to the side so he doesn’t smear his declaration, panting hard. It’s fucking intense, and Mikey seems to realize that. He’s quiet, letting Frank catch his breath, before reaching over and twisting his nipple hard. “Okay, big wolf on campus. My turn.”

Frank snorts and rolls back onto his side. He wraps his hand around Mikey’s cock, stroking him nice and slow. “You’re an asshole.”

“Pretty sure you claimed that title.” Mikey smirks at him, and it’s just so fucking easy. Nothing in Frank’s life has ever been easy, and he doesn’t expect that it will be. Even with Osbourne passed, people are shitheads. It’s hard out there for a wolf, and Frank feels like maybe he’s ready for that now. But this…this is easy. He keeps it simple, jerking Mikey off nice and quick because they still have presents to open and brunch with their parents and, jesus, a fucking honeymoon to head off on. Mikey comes with a moan, and Frank slides his hand up through their come, rubbing it slowly into Mikey’s skin. “ _Dude._ You realize I _just_ showered?”

“Yeah.” Frank licks his lips and leans in to lick Mikey’s neck again. “But you’re my mate.”

“Sure, and my parents are sure going to love to know that means I’m forever reeking of your spunk.” Mikey shivers when Frank traces the line of his neck with his tongue, and slaps vaguely at his hip. “I wasn’t aware of that clause when I signed on.”

“Yeah, well. Werewolf.” Frank grins, because his face just _does_ that these days. Like a big stupid smile is his natural state of being. Maybe it is. He wouldn’t complain.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] lost and (i'm) found by mwestbelle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/398583) by [fire_juggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_juggler/pseuds/fire_juggler)




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